Emergency Room
by Foxprose
Summary: Night falls in the ER of the Grainger, Louisiana, hospital. Characterizations based on books.


**TITLE: EMERGENCY ROOM **

AUTHOR: FOXPROSE  
E-MAIL:  
RATING: K

CATEGORY: SER (Sookie/Eric Romance); EA (Eric Angst)  
DISCLAIMER: All characters except those of Melinda and Cynthia Pinkney belong to Charlaine Harris and The Penguin Group Publishers. No infringement intended or financial remuneration received for this work.  
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated! Send to  
SPOILERS: No explicit spoilers, but story references events and plot developments through _Dead and Gone_.  
SUMMARY: Night falls in the ER of Grainger, Louisiana. Characterizations are based on books rather than HBO series.

Emergency rooms everywhere have a rhythm of their own. Thirty minutes or an hour of frantic, high-speed movement . . . followed by hours of tedium. The ER here in Grainger, Louisiana, is the same, and we were now in a tedius spell. I was drinking coffee in the conference room and reading _The New England Journal of Medicine_. Okay. Fine. I was really reading _People_ magazine. But, hey, doctors deserve a little celebrity-infused downtime, too!

"Dr. Sonntag, you need to come to intake."

It was Cynthia Pinkney interrupting me. Shoot! And I hadn't even had time to check out this week's Suri Cruise photos or spot the ten differences between the "Second Look" photos! I'll add that Cynthia was my least favorite R.N. on the staff. She came from nearby Clarice, Louisiana, and was popularly known behind her back as "Miss Priss from Clariss." The nickname was not unknown to her, but oddly, she was more offended by the deliberate mispronunciation of her hometown than by being identified as prissy.

I put the magazine down, feeling a little embarrassed to have been caught so red-handed with such low-brow reading material. Cynthia no doubt thought that the attending ER physician shouldn't be frittering away her time checking out Brad and Angelina's latest escapades, and I'd probably have to agree with her. Mmm . . . maybe next time I'll put People _inside_ the New England Journal of Medicine!

Melinda Randolph, a perky young woman who just finished nursing school, was in the triage cubicle. A tall man in jeans and a leather jacket was standing. His long blond hair was pulled back into a careless ponytail, and he was carrying a large bundle – presumably a patient – wrapped in a blanket. I walked in as the bundle started to struggle.

"Eric, put me down. I'm perfectly all right." It was a young woman's voice, but the man seemed not to notice.

"Are you the doctor? My wife is . . . so sick. She has fever. Please. I would ask you to heal her. She has a bad fever, and . . ."

The man – Eric, apparently, if the bundle was to be believed – had a slight European accent and an old-fashioned way of speaking. I looked at him closely, and I immediately realized why Cynthia had been so eager to summon me to the front. This man was a vampire. Technically, he wasn't even allowed in a hospital. But I wasn't going to kick him out just yet. First of all, he apparently was bringing a human patient; and second of all, it would bug the hell out of Cynthia! There was no downside!

The bundle suddenly wriggled away from the man's grasp, and the blanket fell away. When I saw the young woman in fleece pajama pants and a sweatshirt, I knew the vampire would be staying. I remembered this patient: Sookie Stackhouse. I'd treated her a few years ago after she'd been assaulted, and she'd done me a favor I wouldn't soon forget.

"Ms. Stackhouse? I don't know if you remember me . . . Mara Sonntag," I said to refresh her memory.

"Oh, sure. Hi, Dr. Sonntag. I'm glad you're here tonight." She gave a genuine if slightly wan smile.

Sookie's small victory in standing on her own was short-lived. A hard, wracking cough overtook her. She doubled over with the painful hacks, and I guided her into the chair.

"Melinda, Cynthia, this is Sookie Stackhouse. I've treated her before. Let's get her vitals and listen to her lungs," I instructed. Melinda sprung into motion, but Cynthia made no movement. She fastened her eyes on the couple as if she expected trouble.

The vampire was digging into his jacket for a wallet. I don't know many vampires – those of us in the medical profession tend not to run into too many of them – but I'd always heard that most of them were, well, kind of suave and confident. This vampire seemed neither; he was patting his various pockets for the elusive wallet. His wallet finally located, he withdrew a familiar-looking blue and white card.

"I know medical care for hum . . . that medical care is expensive. My wife has group health insurance, so you do not need to worry about being paid."

He thrust the card into my hand: Blue Cross/Blue Shield. Well, someone was living right! The name "Sookie Stackhouse Northman" was embossed at the bottom. So Sookie apparently _was_ married to this man, this vampire. I wasn't sure such marriages were legal, but I don't really keep track of these things. And if this Eric Northman was able to pay the premiums, I was sure Blue Cross couldn't care less about the official policies of the State of Louisiana.

"Thank you. Are you Mr. Northman?" I wanted to make sure I understood the players in this little drama.

"Yes. I am Eric Northman. Sookie is my wife," the vampire nodded.

His eyes were suddenly drawn to Melinda, who was about to take Sookie's temperature with an aural probe.

"What are you doing?" It wasn't quite a bellow, but it was close, and Melinda and I both jumped a little.

"Eric, you're gonna scare these folks. She's just seeing if I have a fever," Sookie said wearily.

"Of course you have a fever. I already told them that,"

"Well, leave them alone while they do their jobs, and try not to scare them or they'll kick you out," she threatened with a small sigh.

That seemed to settle Mr. Northman down just bit, but he watched nervously while Melinda took Sookie's blood pressure.

Cynthia pulled me over a few feet.

"Dr. Sonntag, we can't have this!" she huffed.

"Have what?" I decided to play dumb.

"You know," she lowered her voice conspiratorilly, "vamps in the hospital. I think we should call security."

"Cynthia, I know these people, and there's no danger. Plus, we haven't had a single patient in here with bleeding today, so I don't think we have anything to fear. Mr. Northman is just worried about Sookie. How about if I take responsibility for anything that happens?"

"You know that staff members are not required to provide service to . . . you know." She was more strident now, probably wondering if I was going to infringe on her God-given right to be rude to vampires.

I thrust the insurance card into her hand and smiled.

No problem, Cynthia. Why don't you go into the office across the hall and handle the paperwork." Yeah, I know. Not really a question.

Cynthia held the card gingerly and stomped across the hall to an empty office with a computer on the hospital's ER network, and I pretended to ignore the hostile looks she directed toward me as she sat down and settled herself at the desk.

I turned back to Sookie and her . . . husband.

"Okay, Mr. Northman. I gave your insurance card to Ms. Pinkney here, and she'll get Sookie checked in. And while she's doing that, Melinda and I will check out Sookie." I smiled secretly. Cynthia hated doing paperwork for patients, and I had the feeling she would especially hate doing paperwork for the little Northman family gathered here. Just a feeling!

While Cynthia entered information into the computer with a sullen expression, I checked Melinda's data. Temperature of 102 Fahrenheit. Blood pressure slightly elevated. Fluid in the lungs. Meanwhile, Sookie wrapped the blanket around herself while the vampire hovered over her.

"Sookie, do you have chills?" I asked.

"Uh huh," she responded, miserably.

"Okay, I'm going to get you into an examining room and get you some Tylenol to help with the fever. Can you walk with me?"

Sookie was on her feet, following me.

"Mr. Northman, if you'd like to have a seat in the waiting room, I'll get Sookie comfortable and then you can come back to see her."

"No. No. I will stay with Sookie." Here was the vampire confidence I'd heard about. There was no doubt in his mind – and not much doubt in mine – that he would indeed be staying with Sookie. I led our party to an examining room and helped Sookie climb on the table. Melinda returned with a warmed blanket, which she draped over our patient, and with Tylenol, which Sookie gulped down with a cup of water.

"This medicine will heal her?" Uh oh, we were back in nervous vampire mode.

"No. This is Tylenol. It won't heal her, but it will make her feel better, and that will help her heal," I explained.

"But you can give her healing medicine?" he persisted.

"First we need to make her comfortable, and then we'll start the treatment."

"But you can heal her?" he asked, pointedly. He was standing at Sookie's head, stroking her hair as he talked to me, shooting concerned looks at her.

"She'll probably need some antibiotics and a lot of rest, but I think she'll do fine. But I need to listen to her lungs and check her blood first."

"Her blood is excellent. She is not anemic," he said with some defensiveness.

I was beginning to regret skipping that workshop on "Human-Vampire Relations in the Clinical Setting." It hadn't seemed relevant when I was at the conference at Tulane last year, and besides, I'd been eager to get in a little shopping. Now I was paying for my ignorance. It hadn't occurred to me that ordering a blood test might be seen as an accusation.

Sookie interrupted, exasperated, "Oh, for heaven's sake, Eric, this is how human hospitals work. Don't argue with Dr. Sonntag. She helped me a few years ago when Rene beat me up so bad. She knows what she's doing,"

It was nice that she remembered me, and I smiled. Sookie sat up and took dramatic breaths as I listened with a stethoscope. She wheezed and rattled with each breath, and I suspected Eric could hear this without benefit of amplification. He winced with each breath, as if it hurt him physically.

"Okay, folks," I began, starting the speech I've given so often I could recite it in my sleep, "Sookie, you have pneumonia in both lungs. I'm not going to do an X-ray because it won't make any difference in how I treat you. After we check your blood work, we're going to give you antibiotics through an IV drip. We don't need to actually admit you to the hospital; you can stay right here. After a few hours, we'll send you home with a prescription for oral antibiotics. You'll need to take it easy for a week or so, but you should be fine."

The Tylenol did its job, and Sookie's chills subsided. Melinda drew blood and hooked up the IV, and Sookie began to doze. Eric continued to stand at her head, stroking her.

"The medicine is working?" he asked.

"Yes."

I wasn't going to provide more information than I thought he really wanted or needed. Eric's muscles relaxed and he seemed more in control of himself. He no longer seemed frantic.

"Mr. Northman, Sookie needs to rest so that the medicine can work. Can you come with me to conference room so that we can discuss her care?"

"I do not wish to leave her."

"How about if Melinda sits with her?"

He paused, and I thought he might refuse. In fact, he might have done so, but he was probably remembering Sookie's instructions to cooperate. His shoulders slumped a little, as if he'd decided to relinquish control – this time.

"Very well," he said, and he followed me into the conference room.

I motioned for him to sit at the table, and he eased gracefully into a chair.

"Mr. Northman, I just . . ."

"Please, call me Eric," he interrupted.

"I want you to know that Sookie isn't just any patient. She's very special to me," I began.

"How so?"

"Well, remember she told you that I treated her a few years ago? She'd been beaten up pretty bad. But she did something wonderful for me that I'll never forget."

The vampire nodded for me to continue.

"I'd lost my husband less than a year before. That's why I was in Grainger in the first place – I'd joined a program that places doctors in small-town emergency rooms on a rotating basis. My husband, Davd, was also a doctor. In fact, we'd met in medical school. Not long after we finished our training, he got sick. I won't bore you with the details, but after he died, I felt like dying myself. I thought maybe helping people in small towns would give me something to focus on other than my own problems."

"So what was my Sookie's role in all this?"

"Well, I'd mentioned that I was a widow. I don't know why. It's not normally something I would have told a patient. But there was something about her that made me want to talk. And do you know what she did? She encouraged one of her friends to ask me on a date. J.B. DuRone? I heard he's married now, but can you believe we dated for a couple of months? I don't think either of us thought the other was what we wanted in a long-term relationship, but just going out and having fun with someone . . . well, it made a huge difference in my life."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, apparently unaffected by my emotional torrent.

"I'm not sure, really. I just wanted you to know how generous and unselfish Sookie is. But you probably already know that," I answered, lowering my eyes, suddenly embarrassed that I'd made such a big deal out of the story.

"Yes. I know. I am very lucky," he responded soberly.

He looked back toward the examining room where Sookie was resting.

"She will heal, won't she?" he asked, looking at his hands on the table rather than in my eyes. Was that a slight break in his voice?

"Oh, yes! Sookie is strong and the antibiotics will help her fight the infection."

"Her fever is so high . . . the infection must be bad. Are you sure the medicine will work?"

Okay, so I missed the conference on dealing with vampires, but I suddenly understood why Eric seemed so anxious.

"Are you afraid she might die?" I asked quietly.

Now it was the vampire's turn to unleash a torrent of emotion.

"Yes! Yes! How can you be so sure that the medicine will work? Her fever is so high! Her breathing . . . When I arose this evening, she was planning to go to work like that! What if I hadn't brought her here?"

"You must have lost many people you loved over the years," I said.

"Yes. But I cannot lose Sookie. Of all the people, I cannot lose Sookie."

"But she is human. Eventually . . ."

"Please don't remind me," he said, avoiding my eyes.

"Is that why you give her blood?"

"What are you saying?"

"Well, I know that her medical records say Sookie is 28 years old, but she doesn't look a day over 20. That's not a huge difference. I might even attribute it to healthful living, but I have a feeling there's more to it."

"Yes. I give her blood. Not too much. Just enough."

"Just enough to slow down her natural aging."

"Yes."

"And does Sookie know this? Does she know that you are keeping her young? That she could accidentally be turned?"

"No. She only knows that she feels stronger and healthier when she's had my blood."

"Don't you think you have an obligation to tell her?"

"Yes. But I'm . . . not ready."

"Are you afraid she'll be angry? Or want you to stop?"

"Yes. Perhaps."

"Listen, I'm not a psychologist or counselor. But it seems like you love Sookie. You're right that she'll probably be mad at you. But she'll understand why you did it and she'll forgive you."

"She hates being lied to."

"Well, yeah, women do. But it's going to be bad if she figures it out on her own. Or if someone else points it out to her. If I noticed, I'm sure others must also realize."

"I cannot lose her."

I patted the vampire on the hand, and I was surprised at how cold his hand really was.

"Eric, I don't know Sookie well. But when I think of how she helped me – a stranger – I think she's the type of woman who would understand. But you've got to make sure you tell her why."

Melinda stepped in at that moment.

"I've got our patient all set up, and she's getting the antibiotics." She looked at Eric, "You can go back in and sit with her if you want."

He was out the door quicker than I could track, and I left them alone. Sookie didn't need my ministrations, but I caught peeks as I passed Sookie's room. Eric had pulled up a stool, and he sat, again stroking her hair absentmindedly while she dozed. Later, I heard him on his cell phone, arguing with someone named Jason, who was apparently balking at taking off work to sit with Sookie during the coming day. I suspected that Jason, whoever he was, would probably lose that argument.

They left shortly before my shift ended. He pulled his sports car to the door and gently carried Sookie out. She protested, of course, but his greater strength allowed him to prevail this time. He carried her with no more effort than if he were carrying a sack of groceries. Sookie waved to me after he'd settled her in the front seat.

"Wow. Weren't they just adorable," Melinda said in awe. "My Kyle would have told me to take some cough medicine and make dinner."

"Messing around with vampires, pretending to be married . . . that Stackhouse girl is gonna end up with something worse than pneumonia. Who knows what he'll do to her . . ." Cynthia, the voice of doom and gloom, opined.

I didn't say anything. I went back to the conference room and picked up _People_ where I'd left off. It turns out that Suri had gone shopping at The Grove this week, Brad and Angelina haven't had any more kids yet, and I found seven out of ten differences on the two pictures.


End file.
